


kyr'yc

by scythias



Series: star wars [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Heavy Angst, Minor Character Death, One Shot, Post-Order 66
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scythias/pseuds/scythias
Summary: kyr'yc [KEER-eesh]: last(or: rex calls cody one last time.)
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: star wars [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663864
Comments: 23
Kudos: 158





	kyr'yc

**Author's Note:**

> shattered was... a lot. probably not sorry. probably.
> 
> i dunno where maul is. probably just vibing in space.

Rex knows it’s stupid.

The orders always start from the top. It starts from the commanders, works its way down through the captains and sergeants, til the specialists and rookies get their share of the words. The orders hit the commanders first. That’s how it works whenever their superior officers brief the entire GAR on a matter. It was inevitable that a commander would have received the order by now, and it was inevitable that such a commander would have taken care of their orders now. _Good soldiers follow orders_ , Tup had said. It starts from the top, works its way down, till all the soldiers are following the order. They’re good soldiers. Rex knows that by heart.

But he can’t stop himself from pulling out his comlink and accessing the private channel _they_ shared. There’s something tugging at his heart, a dwindling hope that maybe he didn’t get the order, that he had been off yelling at his general’s recklessness or taking care of the shinies up in the medbay of Utapau. He could be safe, could have killed Grievous by now and that was all, relaxing somewhere with homebrewed tea in hand and watching the stars shift above. He had to be fine. Despite the nagging voice in his head, Rex would not give up hope.

He was his brother. He knows he’s stronger than that.

Rex scans the room, making sure he is in total privacy. He and Ahsoka had escaped from the star destroyer a few hours before, running away from the hundreds upon hundreds of troopers bearing Ahsoka’s marks and wielding weapons issued by Rex, blasting at them. Droids. They were emotionless, direct and goalless. Droids. Now Rex was a _hut’uun_ , hiding away in a starship barely big enough to fit a squadron, knowing that his hands were stained with the blood of the brothers he had expressed love for just hours before.

( He couldn’t even afford being surprised when Ahsoka was forced to deflect a blaster shot into Jesse’s chest. He couldn’t. Yet he could feel the blaster wound in his chest, scorching and hollow. )

Once he is sure that he is alone with no trace of Ahsoka outside, he brings up his comlink and taps a few buttons, heart beating faster and faster. More so than when he and Ahsoka had been running from his _vode_. He knows what he’s doing could compromise them, knows that if he did this it would mean certain death for the both of them, but Rex has grown used to not following orders. It’s what General Skywalker would have wanted for him. He was always a wily one like that.

The comlink comes to life. He places it on a nearby table and maximizes the image, and steps back to allow the figure on the other side to manifest. When he does, Rex _sobs_ . His body is frozen when he looks at his _ori’vod_ — ivory armor of plastoid dirtied to the point of brown, the knicks and dents in his shin and calf plates from the utilization of his own legs during combat, the large blaster rifle that hung comfortably from his belt that the older always joked to be his storage supply for _di’kutla jetiise_. The sunset painted on his belly, the antenna that jutted from his shoulder guard proud and lean, the visor that jutted from above his peepers that shielded the rays of the sun and made for a good bludgeoning tool ( to the commander, at least ). Even with the helmet, Rex recognizes him immediately, and he shoves down the tears that already begin to gather in his tear ducts. He takes in a shuddering breath and keeps himself composed. Even while wearing the armor that he had taken from one of the troopers before him and Ahsoka left to hide his identity, it seemed as if the older had already scrutinized him.

“This is Commander Cody,” the voice of the figure in the holo says with nearly the same bluntness that Rex often attributed to him, no-nonsense and grounded that could even the strongest of Jedi Masters shift on the balls of their feet. “Who is contacting me?”

Rex searches for a name to say, taking far too long in finding an answer that he’s sure Cody would have already gauged him out if he _weren’t_ with an inhibitor chip. “Uh, Clone Trooper Sunbeam, sir.”

“Sunbeam?” Cody repeats, his voice even harsher now. The same scrutinizing tone that he held whenever he snuffed out a lie that Rex tried his best to conceal. “What’s your designation, trooper?”

That had been the red flag, because Rex knew _damn well_ that Cody would _never_ ask for a trooper’s designation. He was far too independent, far too stubborn and caring to ever ask for the meaningless string of numbers. People who called him or any trooper nearby their designation received a fierce strike from the commander. Cody practically dies every time a rookie answers his question of their name with their designation. _“They have names, Rex,”_ Cody grunted as he fixed up his tea once, his rage concealed beneath a neutral and grumbling exterior. _“Not numbers, names.”_

Rex takes a few moments to answer. Too stunned to speak. That couldn’t mean anything, that _couldn’t_.

“Well?” Cody questions him.

“CT-6775,” Rex answers after a few moments. He’d cringe at himself, but right now the fear that he’s already lost his best friend is much stronger than his bad lying.

The commander, however, seems to believe him — the second red flag, because Cody’s skepticism and stubbornness was in abundance — and he nods to him in thought. “Alright, Sunbeam. You are a part of the 332nd Company of the 501st Legion, I presume? Were you successful?”

Rex forgets to breathe. “Su… successful in what, Commander?”

“Order 66 — protocol for the instance when the Jedi are traitors to the Republic and must be executed upon the command of Lord Sidious. Ahsoka Tano was with you, I am correct? Were you successful in her execution?”

Rex’s heart falls. The realization — the realization that all of this was real, that everyone really _was_ gone — sets in him like a cloak of shadow. Suddenly, he’s numb, so numb that it burns and freezes him simultaneously, so numb that he already feels his strength sap away instantaneously. The tears fall, cascade beneath his helmet that unlike him was so young, so clean and undirtied unlike his former armor or his own soul. The tears drip down his face the same way they had done when he was fighting back the chips and delve between the blacks wrapped around his neck because _he’s lost him. He’s lost._

“… Yes, Commander,” he answers in a monotone. “Ahsoka Tano has been captured and killed. Darth Maul has also been apprehended and executed.”

“Good,” Commander Cody mutters with a nod. He does not even seem phased. Not aggrieved by the death of the former Padawan who he had shown so much love for, who he had let rest her little montrals on his lap after the Second Battle of Geonosis, who he had yelled at the generals for when she was banished from the Jedi Order. He does not even seem exuberant about the death of Darth Maul, who had caused his general pain beyond imagine, who had killed so many innocents and has eluded their capture innumerous times. “So, why are you calling me?”

Rex doesn’t even bother trying to find an answer to his question. His heart has been torn into two. This… this wasn’t Cody. Cody teases him endlessly, Cody doesn’t take excuses, Cody doesn’t pass from one topic to the next unless it concerns himself. Cody’s not what this husk is — emotionless, brief, and still. Rex wishes he were Force-sensitive just to know that Cody is still screaming in there, still kicking inside and forcing his way through the embrace of the chip. But he isn’t. And now he has to deal with the knowledge that he will never know.

“Just… uh… wanted to brief you on our progress, sir,” Rex answers when he collects a little of himself. “I’ll leave now, I’ve bothered you enough.”

“Alright then,” Cody answers bluntly. Then there’s a pause as Rex goes to reach for the comlink on the desk, then Cody holds his hand out to stop him. It’s so close to Rex’s own. “Wait.”

Rex pauses. “Yes, sir?”

Cody doesn’t speak. It’s like he’s frozen in time, but the comlink had too much of a strong connection to stutter in its hologram. Cody doesn’t move. Though his face is obscured beneath the helmet, Rex had a feeling there was something happening under there. Something bad. Then Cody gathers himself and stands to an upright position.

“Where is your commander?” Cody asks. “Commander Rex?”

Rex stares at him for some time. The way that Cody had phrased that question… it didn’t sound like the chip was talking. It sounded like something else entirely. Rex battles with himself. He could reveal himself, compromise his and Ahsoka’s safety, show his face to show the commander that he was still alive and somewhere out in hyperspace. He could gain the satisfaction of his brother, seeing him face-to-face, letting him know he would be alright whilst practically committing suicide. And Rex almost believes it to be worth it. He wants to know that Cody still cares for him, that even though his _ori’vod_ may have already shot down General Kenobi that he wouldn’t try to shoot Rex point-blank. 

But he can’t. He _can’t_ . He isn’t strong enough. He’s a _hut’uun_.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Rex tells him. He wills his voice not to shatter. “He died during the skirmish. Tano got the better of him.”

For a few moments, the room is drenched in silence. Neither Cody nor Rex moved, eyes trained with one another though shielded by black visors glinting in the light. Then Rex sees something, something liquid fall from beneath the rim of Cody’s helmet. Soaks beneath his blacks or over his chestplate, falls down as his throat bobs with a silent sob. Tears. Cody… Cody was crying. 

_He’s still in there. He’s still in there._

Then, Cody’s voice speaks out. Still monotone. “Thank you, Sunbeam. You may disconnect now.”

Rex nods. He reaches over and shuts off the communicator. Cody’s form dissipates. Rex is alone again.

For a few moments, Rex stands there like a ghost, lost in a ship that he does not remember the name of, trapped with a young girl who he can barely look in the eyes. Grieving the death of his best friend. He doesn’t know what to do.

Silently, he walks over to the comlink. Take it up in his hands, mulling over the metal of the piece of metal. A few minutes later it’s tossed from the ship to the streaks of hyperspace and destroyed upon impact.

Rex returns to the room. Locks the door. Slumps down on the durasteel. Shatters.

**Author's Note:**

> mando'a translations: 
> 
> hut'uun: coward  
> vod(e): sibling(s)  
> ori'vod: older sibling(s)  
> di'kutla: idiotic  
> jetii(se): jedi


End file.
